Page 131 of The Beast Who Begged Me

Fondness for my beast.

Who would ever have thought?

It’s a lot of noise. A lot of people. So much that I can’t imagine ever being alone again, and I like that idea. People might come and go. Sammy and Ricky will probably want their own place once the threats have passed, for example. But that’s okay, because then we’ll just have room for more people. Dami has a talent for picking up strays.

Speaking of which…

“I’m going to talk to him,” I tell Dami, pointing up.

“Want me to come?”

“I’ll manage.” I touch his shoulder as I pass, and he catches my hand for a second before letting me go.

The guest room is up two flights and at the end of a hall. Dami decorated it exactly like that long-ago magazine article showed it, and I haven’t had the heart to tell him it was, in reality, my Nonna Mellie’s sewing room.

I knock and wait for Jesse’s impatient “What?” before pushing the door open. He’s stuffing the spare clothes Rosa found for him into a backpack Sammy gave him, with the efficiency of someone who has done this a lot. Old habits, I suppose, survive even luxury.

“Going somewhere?” I ask from the doorway.

“I’m leaving,” he tells me, without pausing in his actions. “You won’t need to worry about me anymore.”

“You’ve got nowhere to go,” I point out patiently.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Look, Jesse⁠—”

“You want a thank-you card? I’ll mail it.” He pulls the zipper closed and turns on me. His face is still pretty, still sharp, although the bruise at his temple has darkened considerably. “I don’t need any more charity from you.”

“It’s not charity.”

“You’re right. It’s a prison.” He shoulders the bag. “You think I don’t know when someone’s decided they own me? At least Daniel had the courtesy to formalize it. Hard pass. I’m out.”

“Jesse. King is dead.”

It really does seem to come as a surprise to him, and I wonder, for a pitying moment, if he really had planned to drag himself back to Daniel King. To get on his knees and beg.

“So I’m your property now,” Jesse says, dropping the bag to the floor. “Great. What’s the going rate for a Clemenza pet? Ten million, was it?”

He’s trying to goad me into losing my temper. I refuse to let him succeed. “I’m just offering you somewhere to stay while you get on your feet. You don’t owe me anything for it.”

“Not yet. But you still blame me for introducing you to him. Don’t pretend you don’t.”

“I blame King for what happened. I’m not going to turn on you, Jesse.”

“And I never thought Daniel would do what he did. But look where that got me.”

I have no answer for that. But Jesse spent years inside King’s world being looked through when he wasn’t being looked at. The pretty thing in the corner. Nobody guards their mouths around art. The moment he hits the street, he’ll be a target.

“You will have heard things you shouldn’t have,” I point out. “The Bratva won’t leave a leak like that walking around loose.”

“I know how to keep my mouth shut.”

“I’m sure you do. That doesn’t mean they’ll believe that.”

He stares at me. There’s real hate in it, and I let him have it, because I’ve been exactly where he’s standing, with options dwindling. And like Jesse right now, I’ve woken up in a beautiful house and been told the locks were for my own good.

I know precisely how thin the wall is between protection and possession.